Geek
by TurkFox
Summary: Jim isn't crazy. He's just a geek.  Eventually Sherlock/Jim


I wanted to go deeper than just an out-and-out villain, and I think there is scope for it with Jim. He was probably bullied a lot as a child, which we hear a hint of in The Great Game. He's also of a slight stature, very intelligent and probably amazing with computers (come on, his cover-up job is in IT). Not to mention, his Irish accent would have stood out a lot in a London school. Plus, I love geek!Jim and the idea of Jim's obsession with Sherlock. I also think he should be fond of Molly, even if he's too gay to date her :P

(Rating will definitely go up later)

James Moriarty had never been popular. He'd always been on the short side for his age, scrawny and awkward and a bit too shy. He preferred to be alone with his books, where no one could laugh at him or push him around. His parents had moved when he was only seven and his soft Dublin accent stood out immediately amongst those southern English voices of the other boys in his class. This, plus his lack of stature, had made him something of an easy target for his classmates. While the other boys played football in the evenings, he stayed at home, where he annoyed his parents by dismantling appliances to find out how they worked and caused great damage to the kitchen with various chemical experiments.

Swimming lessons were compulsory for his class once Jim was ten, which made him spend the first three days of the new school year trying to pick up an injury that would excuse him. He couldn't swim and he knew that this would make the bullies even worse, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to break any bones or cut anything. Thursday arrived, with their lesson at the same time as some of the older boys. Seeing Jim being placed into the non-swimmers group provided some excellent ammunition for the worst of them, Carl Powers. Carl got some of his friends to cause a distraction, then held Jim's head under the water until he couldn't struggle any more. He'd only just let go in time for Jim to lift his head and gasp for air, seconds before he would have passed out. The teacher hadn't even noticed as the older boy waded away, laughing.

It was alright for Carl. He could swim. In fact, he was on a swimming team which took part in a lot of competitions. While Jim splashed around in the shallow end as he tried to stay afloat, Carl and his friends were swiimming lengths up and down the pool. Jim hated Carl.

Every name, every push, every threatening look just made Jim hate him more. When Jim's mother was killed in a car accident just a few weeks later and Jim was found crying under the stairs, Carl still laughed. Jim was sure he had to stop him from laughing, whatever it took. Every night after school, he'd go to the big, old library near the train station and make his way through piles of books in search of an answer. When he'd finally found what he thought to be a suitable method, he started researching how best to do it. Without his mother around to throw him out of the kitchen when he made too much mess, and with his father in too deep a state of grief to care, Jim was able to try out all sorts of chemical combinations. He tested these on any insects or small rodents he could find, giggling with delight when one of his creations would burn the flesh away or leave the animal writhing in agony. It wasn't that he enjoyed hurting them, he only enjoyed his own success with the things he made.

A newspaper article gave him the final push he needed. His father had barely noticed his existence in recent weeks - or even bothered to get out of bed - so it wasn't difficult to withdraw some money from his account and find someone at the hospital willing to steal a sample of the toxin from the paper. Then he used one of his own creations to create an excema-like rash similar to Carl's - the doctor was happy to prescribe the same treatment as Carl took, which Jim laced with the sample from the hospital. In fact, the most difficult part was switching Carl's cream for the new one. Once that was done, all he had to do was wait.

The next morning at school, while his classmates grieved for Carl, he couldn't help feeling a sense of relief and, if he allowed himself just a moment of self-indulgence, pride. Carl had laughed at him and bullied him and made him feel truly awful. He wasn't laughing any more.

This is all bubbling around in my head at the moment so it's likely there'll be a string of updates for a while. What do you think of poor little Jim? :P


End file.
